


Quick Drive Home

by MaK



Category: Grojband
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1805302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaK/pseuds/MaK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ew, crushes.</p><p>Ew, crushes that show up unexpectedly in places they shouldn't be.</p><p>Ew, crushes that ask for a ride home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quick Drive Home

He's got a crush. A familiar feeling he remembered ridding himself of when he was thirteen, vowing to throw away any sort of romantic feelings that ever again popped up in his life. He was so over all of that interpersonal drama. Who had the time for all that nonsense, right? Apparently, soon after his sixteenth birthday, he's got plenty of time for all sorts of that nonsense. And, even worse and more time consuming, it's a crush on a boy who irritates him to no end by simply existing.

Larry noticed his feelings about the same time the semi-friendly, semi-aggressive fights between The Newmans and Grojband began to pick up in frequency. More gig opportunities were opening up and they found themselves running into their counterparts more often than they'd like. Which was hardly an inconvenience at first, seeing how it was a chance to have light, sarcastic arguments with Laney and admire his friends' poor trash talking abilities. It became a real problem after Corey made an act of picking on him - mostly jokingly, otherwise Carrie would step in. At first, Larry was pissed off. Laney was fine, but the rest of Grojband was really just annoying to him.

Then, he had a weird dream. One where his mind decided that Corey Riffin was cute and maybe even a little attractive instead of the ugly, smelly guy he usually saw him as. In short, he found himself kissing the enemy guitarist and waking up feeling grosser than ever. Of course, there was no way he could go around telling the band about that sort of thing. Not only would it be awkward for all of those involved, the gals would certainly make all sorts of jokes about it. And he definitely didn't need to deal with that. Especially when a weird dream developed into some feelings he'd rather not be having.

Things really started to flare up when Laney found out. Unknowingly, Larry had been dropping some serious hints about his sudden curiosity in Corey, and his fellow bassist picked up on it swiftly. She gave him a sly smirk and offered, "If you really wanna know what he's up to, why no actually go talk to him?" Which was a completely stupid idea. Regardless, Laney kept pushing for him to actually talk to Corey outside of the teasing he received every once and again. Larry avoided mentioning that the joking comments were actually enjoyable now that he saw it as an opportunity to hang out with his crush, if only for a minute.

Whether or not Laney mentioned something to Corey, he didn't get to know. Larry was starting his car, having stayed around to finish collecting equipment from their small gig and was getting ready to leave, when the guitarist knocked on his window with a lopsided grin he found undeniably cute. Larry rolled down the window and tried to act like he wasn't excited about the sudden appearance.

"Hey, Nepp," Corey's teeth were crooked and it showed best when he smiled, like someone who got braces as a child but neglected wearing their retainer afterwards. "Would you mind giving me a ride?"

He frowned, raising an eyebrow judgmentally, "That depends, Riffin. What are you even doing around a Newman's gig? Taking notes for some music that doesn't totally suck, maybe?" Larry grinned, happy to note that his crush hadn't made him incapable of being a bit of an asshole when the time called for it. He immediately suspected Laney of being a snitch, but doubted she told Corey everything. Besides, it'd be easy to persuade that doofus that whatever Laney told him was wrong. 

"As if, dude," he scoffed and snickered, resting his head in his hand. "I just need a quick ride to my house, it's no big deal. Right?" Another smile appeared on his lips and Larry suddenly found his minds on lips and kissing. It was easier to say yes and just keep his eyes on the road instead of stare at him for a minute longer.

Larry nodded, "Yeah, no big deal."

The taller boy got in the car and made a fuss about the seat being too close to the glove box, moving every possible latch on the seat this way and that before he was nearly laying down in it. To finish it off, Corey rolled down the window and propped his feet up on the door, apparently not noticing the dirt that ended up on the door handle. Larry rolled his eyes and turned out of the parking lot hard enough to cause Corey's head to smack the side of the wall. He snickered and the guitarist groaned.

"So, Corey," Larry started, glancing in his rear view mirror for any other traffic. The gig had run pretty late and it was just getting dark outside, so there really was no one else on the road. "What were you doing around our gig? I doubt you were hanging around without your band with no reason."

Through the corner of his eye, he watched the blue-haired boy shrug and tap his foot to some invisible beat. "Well, y'know. I heard what sounded like a bunch of dying cats meowing in sync and decided that it'd be best to check it out." Corey's tone was playful, so Larry did his best to not get upset about his comment - especially when he knew that The Newmans absolutely rocked the neighborhood, but Corey wouldn't want to hear about that.

"At least you look out for the community," Larry shrugged, thinking of ways to possibly keep the conversation going so this car ride wouldn't be painfully awkward for both of them. "Might as well go tell the newspaper - maybe even the police - of your heroic attitude. It'd be a really great headline, I bet. 'Corey Riffin Thinks Awesome Band is Group Of Dying Cats, Will Be Put Into Hearing Therapy,' or something like that." 

Corey laughed and set his feet on the floor, rolling the window halfway up. "I think a better headline would be: 'Corey Riffin, The Best Guitarist The World Has Ever Seen, Saves The Ears Of All Who Attended The Newman's Concert.' Pretty accurate, I think."

"Barely," the redhead smirked, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "More accurately, the journalists throw you out of the building and later make fun of your story while drinking coffee and eating bagels. They'd make a spoof of it, probably. 'Deranged Kid With Ugly Hat Is Suddenly Tone Deaf.' That'd be the one." Larry nodded his head, approving his idea with a smile. The boy beside him was laughing, his fingers touching the brim of his hat and shoving hair out of his eyes.

Larry really, really wants to not like him. Liking him as a friend would even be acceptable. He tried to remind himself that Corey's laugh sounded like geese coughing and his face resembled the inside of a tomato and he constantly smelled like sweat and a bit of cologne. Corey certainly didn't note his inner struggle as Larry tried his best to convince himself that Corey's laugh wasn't actually cute and that his face wasn't attractive or that he somehow managed to smell good.

Corey Riffin is ugly and gross.

Corey Riffin is ugly and gross.

Corey Riffin is ugly and gross.

Larry repeated the statement multiple times in his head, biting his lip to keep quiet as his passenger continued to laugh and make his own smart remarks. Corey's house wasn't too far from here and he could dumb the guy out of the car and forget all about how cute he was. Just a few more minutes and this loser would be out of his hair for another day and he wouldn't have to even think twice about him. 

Luckily, Corey managed to keep himself entertained for those few minutes and the redhead didn't have to talk much to keep the boy going. The Riffin household had nearly all the lights on and the guitarist grumbled, mumbling something about his sister under his breath and how her job at Starbucks and his hit-and-miss job as a musician won't pay that kind of bill. Larry just smiled, feeling no need to remark on his rival's financial situation. He simply let out a small, quiet sigh in relief of Corey about to get out of his damn car.

He'd probably have to go buy car fresheners after this. Maybe some vanilla to get rid of the musty smell Corey carried with him. Or some cinnamon, but Larry didn't get to debate long before a pair of lips rested on his cheek and pulled away. More than a tad stunned, he watched a satisfied Corey pull a lopsided grin and say, "Maybe we can do it again sometime," before getting out of the car.

**Author's Note:**

> im going 2 bed bye


End file.
